The ASS
by Muffinsweep11
Summary: Three boys from three entirely different worlds - Zuko's wondering if he's made the right decision, Frodo wants to have his burden lifted, Harry hates being torn between life and death. One similarity that pulls them together - a single opportunity, gives them all the chance to change their paths. Also a Avatar: Last Airbender crossover.
1. Chapter 1: Fainting Like Girls

**My first fanfic. Please R&R, so that I can improve it.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own HP/LOTR/Avatar: The Last Airbender**

* * *

_In the world of bending..._

Zuko was struggling to maintain his composure, for in the inside, he was grinning from ear to ear. He had just made it through his first royal conference. He had literally been at his father's right hand. It was all he ever wanted. Ever since he dishonored Firelord Ozai, his father, who had burnt him when he was young and banished him on a hunt for the multi-bender Avatar, there was nothing more that he had wanted: his honor. And now he had it, sitting on the royal cushion – the seat of the Fire Nation Prince, dressed in the Fire Nation Prince's clothes.

He must have been so dizzy from happiness, for the world seemed to spin around him. But only when he blacked out completely did he realize that he was wrong…

* * *

_In the world of magic..._

Harry was struggling with his feelings. Damn the Pensieve, damn all of Serverus Snape's 'wonderful' memories about him loving his mother Lily, about hating his father James…about the fact that he, Harry Potter, was the last of Volemort's seven horcruxes. And horcruxes had to be destroyed just to kill that freaking snake like man.

No, he didn't want to die. He couldn't. His friends still needed him. How about his future with Ginny, the girl of his life? Oh those adorable freckles…

Shut up, he told himself. He was about to die, and he's thinking about Ginny's freckles?

Oh well, there was that option of not dying…

Suddenly a splitting headache came_. Stupid scar_, thought Harry, _my life sucks. _

And that was his last thought before he plunged into darkness.

* * *

_In the world of Middle-earth..._

Frodo was struggling to not to lose his grip. He had come so far, and he wasn't about to plunge to his death because he lost his grip on a stair. But yet he couldn't help looking down, where orcs were marching through the gates of the Dead City; rows and rows of them, marching towards Gondor. Frodo felt sick.

"Come on Mister Frodo!" cried Samwise Gamgee. "We can't give up now! If we do, Middle-earth will be kicked in its sorry rear end!"

"_I will_ if I don't rest soon!" groaned Frodo, his fingers were numb and his legs were aching.

"Just over this ledge, Master," whispered Gollum, "It's a long fall if you let go…"

Frodo couldn't bring himself to get over the ledge. And Gollum just stared, his sullen blue eyes falling upon his neck. _Oh no, you don't, you preposterous creature. _His bony hand reached out, stretching for his neck. Frodo heard the sound of Sam drawing his sword from its sheath.

Then Gollum seemed to change his mind, and reached for Frodo's arm, helping him up. Frodo collapsed on the ledge, exhausted.

"The fat hobbit wants it…" said Gollum, "he will try to take it from you…"

Frodo looked at Sam, and placed a protective hand on his neck, where the Ring was. No, Sam wouldn't do that…

But before he could think further, he collapsed back down onto the rocky ledge, not caring that there were sharp pieces of rock jabbing his chest. He just wanted to get away from his crappy life, and he was grateful to the darkness that surrounded him…

* * *

_In Somewhere..._

Zuko was the first to wake. He was no longer in his royal robes, or seated on his royal cushion. Instead he was lying on the cold hard ground. He sat up and stared around.

He was not in the Fire Nation, for sure. He was in a white hall, with a high arched ceiling and columns of white pillars. He looked down at himself, and realized…he was glowing. There was a faint silver about his skin, and it seemed…no, it couldn't be.

He quickly diverted his attention to elsewhere, and noticed to other figures lying on the ground, both, like him, dressed in simple white robes and glowing. One of them was a boy with messy tousled hair. The other, well Zuko had no idea what the other was. All he knew that it had big feet, and hairy toes.

The boy stirred. He woke, his eyelids opening to reveal a pair of bright green irises. Sitting up, he was just as confused as Zuko was.

"Merlin's pants," he said. "One minute I'm thinking about my girlfriend's freckles and the next I'm cast away to – woah that's one big scar there on your face, dude."

Zuko grunted. "There's no need to mention that, though I might add that you have a very oddly shaped one as well."

"Harry," said the boy.

"Yea, I know, that thing next to you has hairy feet," said Zuko, mishearing.

"No my name's Harry Potter," he said, "And what in the name of Dobby's sock is that?"

"Don't ask me, I have no idea."

"Sasquatch?" suggested Harry. He leaned over and shook the creature. "Dude, wake up!"

Suddenly the thing jerked awake. "Orcs!" he yelled, startling Harry and Zuko. "Don't hurt me!"

"Chill dude – or whatever you are," said Harry. "I don't have a clue on what your saying but whatever orcs are, they ain't here."

"And we're not going to hurt you," said Zuko, "but attack us, and I'll scar you for life; literally."

"Doesn't matter, I already have a scar," said the creature. He pushed back his robe to reveal a black, nasty scar on his shoulder. "My name's Frodo Baggins, by the way, wait…which reminds me, why are we glowing and translucent?"

"We're spirits," said Zuko. "Or at least…that's what I think."

"Well, sure beats my suckish life."

"And mine," agreed Harry.

"And that's why you three are here," came a voice from behind them.

They turned to face a panel of three people, seated in a row, staring down at them with stony looks on their faces.

Harry peered at the one on the left. "Merlin?" he had heard descriptions of the great wizard before in Hogwarts, and the man seemed to fit it.

Frodo was staring at the man in the middle. "You're one of the Valar." He'd heard the Elven Prince Legolas mention them before.

Zuko immediately recognized the man on the right. "Roku."

"It is I," replied the ex-Avatar.

"But what are we doing here?" asked Frodo. "Are we dead?" There seemed to be some kind of hopeful tone in his voice.

"No, you are not," answered the Valar. "In fact, you're troubles have just begun."

Next to Zuko, Harry moaned.

"What is one thing you three have in common?" asked Roku.

Harry looked around. "Same gender?"

Frodo stared at his fellow mates. "Same bad hairdos?"

"Am I the only one with common sense?" asked Zuko incredulously. "Isn't it obvious, you dolts? We all have scars. Big, fat, ugly ones."

"Hey! My lightning shaped scar isn't ugly!"

"Yes," said Merlin, "You three…are members of the Association of the Somewhat Scarred."

"Wait, isn't the acronym for that – " started Zuko, but was cut off by Roku.

"A.S.S? Yes," he said. "And I want no comments."

* * *

**There you go, the prologue :)**


	2. Chapter 2: The Council (not of Elrond)

**Got a bit of Wizards of Waverly Place kind of spells in this chapter. Hope you like it! Any criticism is to be nicely phrased please :)**

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Zuko heeded none of Roku's advice. "A.S.S? Couldn't you come up with a better name?"

"Nope," said Merlin. "Unless you want Boy's Association of Largely and Lucklessly Scarred."

"B.A.L.L.S," summarized the Valar. "Would you prefer that name? As the Council, we can always change it..."

"NO!" cried the threesome in unison.

"Ok then, we should get on with our business then."

"Hold just a minute!" said Harry. "Shouldn't we begin this business conference with a proper introduction?"

Merlin sighed. "Fine. _Information apparition!"_ He snapped his fingers, and a stack of papers materialized within his other hand.

Harry leaned in towards Zuko. "Merlin is awesome," he whispered. "I think I want to become his students one day when I'm dead."

Just then, Merlin peered at the papers. "Ok…Dang it I don't have my spectacles with me…"

"You want to learn from a guy that can materialize paper but has not the common sense to makehis spectacles appear?" Zuko whispered back.

"In that case," replied Harry, his expression now skeptical, "on second thought, maybe not."

"So…" began Merlin. "Dodo Baggins!"

"Um, sir, it's Frodo, relative of the famous Bilbo Baggins, writer of the well known book, 'There and Back Again'."

"Whatever. You, young man, you're a hobo?"

"A hobbit, sir. One from the Shire I might add – "

"Don't care. Ah, Harry Potty…"

"Harry Pott_er_."

"I knew that! Anyways you are a wizard, seventeen years, who hates cockroach clusters – but why? They're crunchily delicious! And I see you like butterbeer more. Teen wizards nowadays…no sense of taste."

"Wait, are we talking about me or sweets?"

"Frankly I'd like to talk about sweets, they're much more interesting than you."

Harry stared at him in disbelief. "I escaped Voldemort's clutches for seventeen years, rode a flying car, had a Azkaban convict as a godfather, almost got killed by a bludger, can speak parseltongue, nearly died from a giant snake bite, travelled through time, was chased by dementors, casted a patronus at the age of thirteen, broke into the Ministry of Magic and Gringotts, swallowed a golden snitch, won the Triwizard Tournament, was kidnapped by Death Eaters, barely survived a fight with Voldemort, and I might add that I'm a descendant of Ignotus Peverell. After all that, and you still think sweets are more interesting?"

"Clearly you have never tasted Crystalline Pineapples before, Mister Potty."

"Potter!"

"Next," continued Merlin, ignoring Harry's angry complaints and protests. "Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, Son of Firelord Ozai, exiled as a dishonored prince and sent on the then impossible task of finding the Avatar, master of all bending."

"Well, at least he got my name right," said Zuko, though thoroughly insulted.

"Shut up," grunted Harry.

"Well then," concluded Merlin, clapping his hands together. "Shall we continue?"

"Fire ahead, sir," said Frodo.

"We're simply conducting an experiment," said Roku. "We want to try out a new formula for body switching."

"Body switching?" exclaimed Harry. "And how in the world are you people going to do that?"

"Through your scars, as crazy as it may seem," answered the Valar. "You three have some of the most prominent scars; they're your identities, who you are. Your souls."

"Thus," said Roku, "we just use them to let you switch identities. Your personalities will stay, but your identities won't."

"Wow, Freaky Friday," said Harry, thinking of the Muggle film.

"Wait, so you pull me out when I'm in the middle of a war," said Zuko, slightly outraged, "and expect me to be your lab rat?"

"You're in the middle of a war too?" asked Frodo. "So am I."

"Same here," said Harry glumly.

"Okay, rephrase," said Zuko. "You pull all of us out of world wars and then expect us to participate in your little experiment?"

"It's not only beneficial to us, young Prince Zuko," said Roku calmly. "It will give you time to heal from your lives, and open your minds to other worlds. You three are the first to ever have this opportunity."

"Get away from our lives?" repeated Frodo. "Okay I'm convinced. Fire up your magic or whatever you're going to use."

"Well," said Harry, considering. "I suppose it would be nice to for once leave my work to someone else."

Zuko remained silent.

"Prince Zuko?"

The prince stared up at the men with his fierce yellow eyes. "I'm quite happy with my life, thank you very much."

Harry groaned. "Come on, do you have to be a wet blanket?"

"My life has just about gotten much better these last few days," said Zuko coldly, "and i don't want to have it ruined." He turned. Frodo lunged after him, but as a hobbit, he could only latch on to Zuko's leg.

"Please, just do this!" Frodo cried, "or i'll have to return to my sorry life."

"Get off!" Zuko shook his leg vigorously, "I don't need any of this."

He started to walk away. "Just show me the way out so that I can get back to my chamber and my girlfriend!"

Harry looked at the Council. "Is there any way you can stop this so that we can continue?"

Merlin clicked his fingers. "_Ropus Appearus_!"

Suddenly ropes materialized around Zuko's body, entwining him, and with another snap of his fingers, both Zuko and Frodo were teleported over next to Harry.

"Really? This is how you people treat a royalty?" asked Zuko, enraged. "Now i have a hobo and his hairy feet pressed against my leg!"

"I am a hobbit, for the sake of Númenor!"

"Good!" said Merlin, clapping his hands. "Now that you're all lined up, let's get this party started."

"Whoever's getting my life, don't trust Gollum," warned Frodo.

"I trust anyone I want," said Zuko shortly. "And now I've learnt not to trust old men!" He struggled in his bonds.

Harry stared around skeptically. "Well, I doubt an even larger scar will give me much trouble," Harry said sarcastically. Frodo just shrugged, and Zuko narrowed his eyes (That was, if he could even narrow his left eye any further).

"I would strangle you if my hands weren't tied to my butt!"

"_I_ totally don't mind anyone, as long I get away from my burden-filled life," said Frodo.

With that, the three men held out their arms, and began to chant in a language that neither boy understood.

It wasn't very obvious at first, but Harry did indeed feel the hairs at the back of his neck stand on ends. Then his fingers went numb, as so did his toes, spreading to his hands and feet. The numbness spread all over his body, everywhere…except his scar. It seemed to pound furiously, with all the blood rushing to it. His soul, being pulled from his body and mind, pulled through his small crack of a scar, as if all that energy was extracted and squeezed through that narrow crack. His whole body began to convulse. Black dots blurred his vision.

Then once again (wow, he had no idea how many times he was going to do this) he fell into darkness, into what seemed to be a bottomless abyss.


	3. Chapter 3: Transfigurations

There was softness beneath him, just like his old bed in the Gryffindor tower. There was a sweet scent that embraced the air, totally different from the stench of the pits of the giants that had invaded Hogwarts. And it was peacefully quiet, no screaming, no Death Eaters with war shouts or marching.

Harry struggled to open his eyes, and a warm orange light hit his face. It had been long since he had ever seen light after the dark days of the war.

His eyes took a while to adjust, and when they did, he jerked back in shock.

"Dragon bogeys! What the hell are doing in my bed, woman?"

Sure enough, there was a Chinese girl lying opposite him on his bed, staring at him with those slits for eyes. Harry suddenly became aware that he was topless, and pulled his covers up to his neck.

"Damn it, Zuko, stop playing around," she said. "You know I'm your girlfriend Mai." She poked his chest playfully. Harry edged his way from her.

So, he had gotten Face Scar Dude's body. Just great. Now he had a Chinese girlfriend who sleeps with him. He has never done that with Ginny before.

"Gosh, my head hurts," he said, clutching his throbbing head. "What happened?"

"You fell unconscious just after the conference," said Mai, edging a little closer. Harry backed away again; though one more inch and he was going to fall off. "I brought you back here, so that I can help you celebrate your reinstating as Fire Prince, and your marvelous suggestion that gained you the Firelord's approval."

"What decision?" asked Harry, clueless.

Mai was bemused. "Your decision to attack Ba Sing Se. You don't remember?"

"Must have had a concussion or something when I passed out," said Harry, thinking quickly. Merlin, if he was going to get through with this, he was going to need a lot more help.

_And help you shall get._

Harry started. "Did you say something?"

Mai looked at him quizzically. "First you pass out on me, then you start hearing things? Did you have an affair last night?"

"No!" cried Harry. "Why would I commit such abomination?"

_Don't say anything wrong to this girl, she's not as nice as you think she is – and don't freak out again you dunce, I'm just your conscience. I'll give you all the information you need. Enjoy!_

Great. Now he had a voice stuck in his head forever.

"I know you wouldn't, Zuzu, not after that mess you made at Ember Island just for me."

"Okay…" Harry had not a clue. "But what is it about this invasion thing?"

"On the Sozin's Comet," replied Mai, "You were the one who suggested burning down the entire city, weren't you?"

_The entire city? What the hell was Zuko thinking? Oh I know, his stupid honor._

_Shut up, conscience, _Harry thought back.

"I don't know..."Harry said slowly. "Won't we need to make sure that there is no one standing in our way?"

"Spirits, do i need to get a doctor for your amnesia?" asked Mai. "The Avatar, the only one capable of killing the Firelord, is dead, struck down by you!"

Struck down? Goodness, how much damage had this deranged boy done?

Yet, there was some strange tugging feeling that this boy, the Avatar, whoever he was, wasn't dead.

_Dammit,_ grumbled his conscience._ But even if he's not, Zuko's already sent an assassin after him._

_What?!_

"I…I need some time alone," Harry stammered, "to, you know, recall…"

"I shall leave you in your meditations," consented Mai, and she kissed him, before leaving the room

The entire city. In Hogwarts, there was only one castle, and there were already tons of deaths. A city? Harry couldn't imagine the number of deaths there would be. And an assassin?

No, this was just wrong. He had to stop this. This was what he was sent here for. To fix the damn mess that Zuko unknowingly made.

He got up and walked out of the room.

"Uh, Prince Zuko?" asked one of the door guards. "Your clothes?"

* * *

Zuko wasn't at all pleased when he woke up to find his feet big and hairy. Darn, he'd gotten the hobbit's life.

"Mister Frodo, wake up, we must get going." He looked up to find another hobbit, staring down at him with big concerned eyes. _Samwise Gamgee, _his mind told him.

He looked at his surroundings. They were on the edge of a cliff, a ledge that protruded from the rocky walls, which surrounded an emerald green city. Even from way up, Zuko could feel the emission of death from that city.

"It's so dark," he said. It was true. Everything around him was darkness.

"It's always dark in Mordor," said Sam simply. "Let's go."

Zuko groaned and stood. Every part of his body was burning, his arms his legs…and most especially his chest…

"No."

He looked at the other hobbit, who was staring wide-eyed into the backpack he had been rummaging through.

"What is it?"

"The food's gone. All of it."

Suddenly a creature appeared on the ledge just above them, his empty orb-like eyes staring vengefully at Sam. _Gollum._

Sam noticed the creature, and pointed an accusing finger at it. "He took it, I know his sneaky ways."

"Sneak? Smeagol would never sneak. Smeagol hates Elven breads…" suddenly he looked up at Sam. "I know…the fat hobbitsess took it!"

Now this was quite insulting, for Sam did have a rather round shape. _Like Uncle Iroh, _thought Zuko.

"Liar!" Sam lunged at the creature, and pummeled him with his fist. Zuko moved in to stop him, but just then a sharp pain pierced his chest, like a sword driving into his ribcage. A voice hissed in his mind, ripping through his already aching head.

He collapsed, clutching the gold chain that hung around his neck. What was it? Again, for some strange reason, the information just seemed to flow into his mind, as if on cue. It was the One Ring; the ring that controlled all nineteen rings, the one that had the power to conquer Middle-earth. Now he knew it was the thing that was causing his pain, and he realized why Frodo had hated his life so much.

Because of a goddamn piece of talking gold.

* * *

The first thing that came to Frodo was silence; Silence that had seemed to weave its way into the atmosphere; Silence that made the darkness outside even darker; Silence…that he could hear death. Every last screams the dead ever made, every last step taken, every last fall.

It was so silent, that the blood pounding in his ears was clearer than ever. His head ached, and he was lying on a soft-carpeted floor.

What happened? Where was he?

He looked around. It reminded him of his cozy little hobbit hole back in Bag End, which was cluttered from stuff that his old sentimental Uncle Bilbo kept. He spotted a desk, very much like the one Bilbo spent so much time on, just that now it had a floating metal plate on it (_Mighty Smaug, could that be the work of Gandalf?_ wondered Frodo). Behind it, was an elaborate school crest, with an 'H' in the center surrounded by four different segments with four different animals on them: A snake, a raven, a badger, and a lion.

Frodo twisted his body in the opposite direction, where a row of mirrors was propped around an empty stone basin.

He stood, and was slightly shocked to see himself not as a short stocky hobbit with big hairy feet, but a scraggly young boy with tousled hair and a pair of round glasses propped on the bridge of his nose.

Oh, so he had gotten glasses boy. Nice to know.

He walked up to the desk, to the metal plate filled with a black liquid that constantly swirled and shivered, as if it had a life of its own. However, just as he neared it, there was a stinging pain on his forehead. In the shock of the moment Frodo was confused. _Shouldn't the pain be on his chest, where the ring it, not his forehead? _Then he recalled the interesting lightning shaped scar on Harry's forehead. His burden.

Along with the excruciating pain, a flurry of images raced through his mind; A book and a cup, being stabbed by a fang far too long to belong to a Warg, one at a time; A locket and a ring (A ring! But no, Frodo reminded himself, he wasn't in Middle-earth any longer), being smashed to pieces as a sword, very much like Aragorn's, comes down on it (Frodo sighed – if only the One Ring could be destroyed that easily); A diadem, being consumed by a fire that roared with much anguish and fury, reminding him of his terrible experience with Orcs.

Then the five objects reappeared, but this time they seemed to form a barrier in front of a pale nose-less man, whom Frodo sensed, was the enemy. Not only that, there were two other objects – a snake…and Harry.

The barrier began to crumble, but the only things that remain were the snake and the boy.

Frodo made not much sense of these images, but he saw the pattern: Somehow Harry had fallen into the same category as those other destroyed objects, and Frodo had a feeling that in order to get to the enemy, Harry had to die.

Oh joy.

* * *

**A/N: Btw there are several swears in the story that are taken from Potter Puppet Pals' "Wizard Swears". Please R&R!**


	4. Chapter 4: Confrontation

**A/N: Sorry this took a while to upload, but here it is, the fourth chapter! Please R&R!**

* * *

He knew he was running. He knew that adrenaline was pumping through his veins. He knew that he needed to get away from something…

But he didn't know where he was running. He didn't know why he was running. He didn't know why he had grabbed two broadswords, almost habitually.

Then he stopped, right in front of a heavy metal door.

Harry took a deep breath and recovered from his run through the tunnels.

_Behind that door lies your defiance. _

So was this what he had come here for, to piss the Firelord off? Maybe.

He pushed it open.

It was a long narrow hall that he entered. A row of six soldiers standing before him, guarding their one precious leader: Firelord Ozai.

Goodness, a long beard; he hit puberty fast, thought Harry at first sight. Not as fast as Dumbledore, though – Harry still wondered if the Hogwarts ex-Headmaster had ever considered shaving.

"Prince Zuko," Ozai's tone dripped with disdain. "what are you doing here?"

"Don't really know," Harry muttered to himself. And raising his voice, he said, "The truth?"

The side of Ozai's lip curled slightly. "In the middle of an eclipse? This ought to be interesting…" With a flick of his wrist, his guards exited the room.

"Ok, number one, I didn't kill anyone," said Harry.

The firelord narrowed his eyes. "Then why would your own sister Azula lie to me?"

"Uh...because the Avatar's not dead?" Harry suggested quickly.

"What?" There was a spark of anger in the man's eyes. Something flipped on at the back of Harry's mind. Perhaps he could play around with the Firelord's bad anger management, and maybe he could use this as an advantage. He had no idea what he was saying, but if

"He's alive," said Harry. "He's probably coming to kill you now."  
Ozai's eye twitched. "Get out. Now."

"Who the hell am I to obey you?" asked Harry, relishing in his defiance.

"You will obey me…" The Firelord's stood and his fists clenched, and almost instinctively the broadswords were unsheathed.

"Sit down, old man," Harry said. "I need to talk, and you're bloody hell going to listen."

The Firelord sat back down.

"Look, I'm sick of wars, alright?" said Harry. "It's just war everywhere. We thought it would gain us respect from others for our supposed greatness, didn't we?" Here he thought of Voldemort, the man who thought he could be respected through his dark evil ways – oh what the heck, who was he to liken a bald snake-like man to a man with long hair and a beard? "But no," he continued. "People are terrified. All we've done is create fear, and we deserve to be hated. And now, I've made my choice – I'm going to join the Avatar" – _whoever this 'master of all elements' was_, thought Harry – "and leave you to hope the next thing that lands in your butt crack isn't my foot."

To his surprise, the Firelord smiled.

"That was a marvelous speech of yours, Zuko. But since you now want me gone, you traitor," jeered the Firelord, "why wait? Go on, you've got your swords."

"I know I should leave that to the Avatar," answered Harry, sheathing his swords once more and turned his back on the Firelord.

"You're a coward," spat Ozai, "You only dare to face me when I'm powerless?"

Harry began to walk slowly.

"Don't you want to know what happened to your mother, Prince Zuko?" Ozai asked, a sneer added into his voice. Harry sensed it was a topic Zuko would have fallen for, but he just continued walking. The rest of the Firelord's words he stamped out, but the last few, he kept.

"Now I realize that those banished for treason were allowed too much mercy…your punishment, will be far steeper…"

There was a crackling sound behind him, and when he swiveled around, two whips of lightning greeted him.

_Voldemort's nipple! _

That was Harry's last thought before the bolt of lightning headed straight for him.

* * *

"Oh, Mister Frodo! I'm so sorry!" Sam knelt down, stricken by his own actions. "Here…lets just rest a bit…"

"No," said Zuko, and attempted to push himself up once more, but another wave of fatigue sent him slumping against the rock.

"Yes," said Sam. "You're exhausted…it's the air I tell you… that Gollum, and the thing around your neck…

"I could help you, you know…

_"Carry it for you…help you share the burden…"_

_Carry it for you…_

"Get away, you hobo!" Zuko shoved Sam away from him, casting a protective hand over the Ring.

"I don't intend to keep it!" protested Sam, shocked by his partner's sudden outburst, "I…I just wanted to help…"

"See, see?" Gollum sneered. "I told you, the fat hobitsess wants it for himself!"

"Shut your filthy face!" Sam screamed, and made another lunge for the creature, but Zuko intervened and shoved him back, "go away! We don't need you anymore."

"No," said Zuko.

"What?" Sam looked up at him.

"It's you that should go," said Zuko coldly. "Not him."

Sam stared at him for a while, bewildered, his breaths coming in short angry rasps.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he said, without emotion.

"Mister Frodo," he whispered. "This isn't you."

_Because it isn't, _thought Zuko, but said nothing.

"Don't you see what that creature has done?" he pointed an accusing finger (Wow, he didn't know hobbits could use that finger…) at Gollum. "He's a liar! He's poisoned you against me!"

Zuko just gave Sam a stone hard stare. He couldn't trust this hobbit, after he tried to steal the Ring. "I don't need your help anymore, Sam."

Sam sank to the ground, breaking down into indignant, ragged sobs.

Zuko was amazed at Sam's easy consent, having put up with Azula's stubborn defense for many years. It caught him off guard, and for a moment he was at a lost of what to do. He could have given in to his sympathy, and gone to comfort Sam. He could have given in to his moral, and admit he was wrong. But since his dispassion dominated his mood, he could do nothing but insist.

"Go home, Sam."

* * *

Frodo was in a daze; so much that Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had to yell at him three times before he remembered his name was Harry.

"Harry! Where in this big mess of Hogwarts were you? We nearly thought you went to the forest to surrender yourself!"

"Well, I'm going there now," Frodo said shortly. He walked past the two of them.

Ron gawped at him. "Have you lost your mind? Why the bloody hell would you do that?"

Frodo stopped walking, but didn't reply.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Hermione, her voice trembling with concern and dread.

Frodo turned. "Let me ask you, how many horcruxes are there?"

"Seven," answered Hermione. "The diary, the ring," – again Frodo could not help a shiver as he heard the name of his terrible burden back in middle-earth – "the locket, the cup, the diadem, the snake, and…oh, swish and flicker, you've got to be kidding me…"

"Don't break out in tears Hermione, that's just gi – " Frodo nearly said 'girly', being used to just having men around him in the Fellowship – apart from Legolas, maybe, that elf seemed to be more in touch with his feminine side – but Hermione was a girl, and perhaps a very pretty one " – not very comforting," he corrected. "Look, all you need to do is kill the snake, and then it's just him."

Frodo turned his back on them, and walked down the stairs and out into the courtyard. He sensed the air used to be refreshing and cooling, with the seasons embracing the air one at a time. But now it reeked of giant blood and dust.

In the corner he saw a young girl with mousey brown hair, huddled under a bench, where another slightly older redheaded girl was trying to coax her out. So far she wasn't doing too well. "Come on, get the hell out of there. Don't want the Death Eaters to come kill you, do you?"

The younger burst into tears.

"Oh for the love of Merlin, just get out from there!"

"I want to go home!" Another wave of tears. "I want mommy!"

Frodo considered helping the girl, but decided against it. He pulled out cloak tucked in his jacket pocket and flung it over himself, hoping to conceal himself. It concealed himself more than he expected – it turned him invisible. He had to bite his lip till it bled, to prevent himself from screaming, "Saruman's balls!"

He slipped past the girl with ease, and took one more look at her face.

Gah! Freckles. Not his type.


	5. Chapter 5: 'Tis Like Cows Fly!

**A/N: Fifth Chapter. Please R&R!**

* * *

The bolt cut through the air, aiming right for Harry.

The last thing Harry remembered was a wave of adrenaline shivering through his body, and after that he wasn't sure what was happening.

It seemed to all happen in slow motion, his hands stretching out towards the bolt and taking it in, drawing in its energy. He remembered the force of the impact as it pushed him backwards. The energy flowed through his body, circling back round to the tips of his tingling fingers. Then, with a burst of exhilaration, he aimed the lightning back at the Firelord, who was taken on by surprise, and was slammed against the wall.

Harry was too stunned to care what happened to that old man. He could only turn and run, again, to God-knows-where. But from what he had just witnessed, he decided to let his body control itself.

He found himself climbing onto a war balloon, at which point his adrenaline had not yet worn off. So, when flames began shooting out from his hands and into the burner, the only thing that was going on in his mind was: _Lightning, and now fire?! What in the name of the forbidden Elder Swear is going on?!_

_Dammit Harry I'll just tell you._

_About time, conscience, _thought Harry, as the balloon began to lift off the ground.

_You're a damn firebender._

_A what?_

_A person who can shoot flames from their mere fists. Now just look out for a huge sky bison – a flying cow, don't ask – and follow it._

Sure enough, as the balloon rose into the sky, he was greeted by a war, where war ships and were firing down upon the small invasion down below, which had begun to retreat. Harry wanted to help defend those people, but just then he heard a great moo, and sure enough, he spotted a huge flying creature, something between a buffalo and a manatee with six legs. The sky bison – gosh it really could fly. What comes next, a flying pig?

As if on cue, a charred piece of bacon fell on his head.

"For you, your father and your stinking nation, Zuko!" yelled a dark skinned boy amongst the seven on board the bison, his face riddled with frustration, his eyes glaring angrily at Harry. "I would've thrown rocks instead if the earthbenders hadn't used them all, and if Katara had made this bacon a bit softer! Go to hell!"

Wow, they really must've hated Zuko. Great, another problem left for Harry to solve. And to think that Zuko thought his life was getting better. What went on in that brain of his?

The bison took off to the west, and soon the company on board was completely oblivious to the balloon that followed them, as silent as a grave.

* * *

There was evidently something wrong with this tunnel.

And Zuko had no idea why he was still walking into it.

Gollum had told him the only way to get to Mordor was through the tunnel, but the cobwebs, the stench, the feeling…it felt so wrong. It made chills go down his back. But he continued walking, knowing that he had to get to Mount Doom.

"Smeagol?" he called out for Gollum, who had long disappeared into the maze of tunnels.

"Over here…" there was a tone of mockery in the creature's voice. And sure enough, Zuko was unable to see the creature anywhere in the dim light of the tunnel.

He stepped on something, something that went crunch under the soles of his feet.

No. He dared himself to look down, and true, there was a bone beneath his big hairy feet. Dammit, why did it have to be bones? Now he was very much wishing he was back in the royal gardens arguing with Azula than wandering around lost in these unsettling tunnels. Zuko leant on the walls to rest for a while. His hand stuck onto something unusually sticky. Wait a minute…normal cobweb weren't that sticky and thick, were they? He looked around, and began to notice things that he hadn't seen at first glance; cob-wrapped animals, hanging from the ceiling of the tunnels. And they weren't small animals like insects, the usual victims of webs. They were larger animals like birds…and humans.

Panic rose in him. He felt around his body, his panic-stricken mind temporarily forgetting he didn't have his double broadswords with him. But he managed to find a sword sheathed at his side, quelling his nervousness a little – but not all.

Nonetheless, he began to sprint along the tunnels, trying to avoid as much of the sticky webs in his path, but failed several times as he stumbled over his big, clumsy feet that he still needed getting used to. Unfortunately, he took a big tumble and landed in a pile of webs, and upon him fell a dead carcass. He yelled in shock, hurriedly pushing away the pile of bones. Attempting to tear away from the sticky mess, he stood once more, only to stumble backwards and land on his rear end in yet another tangle of webs.

What was this bleeding place? It was so unlike the tunnels in Ba Sing Se. In fact, it was completely opposite.

He stilled for a moment, shrouded by darkness. In the moment of quiet, a voice rang out in his head.

_To you, Frodo Baggins, I give you the light of Eärendil, our most beloved star; may it be a light for you in dark places, when all other lights have gone._

Zuko reached into his pocket, and fished out a glass vial, containing some sort of crystalline substance. So much like Katara's spirit water.

Suddenly there was another voice, but this one was prompting him to echo its words. And so he did.

_"Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima!"_

* * *

Frodo walked towards the forest, his every step closer getting seemingly heavier. As so did his heart, as if it knew it was going to stop very soon.

He had wanted this so much, to be rid of burdens, to be free in heaven. But why now, when he was on the verge of getting what he wanted, did he hesitate?

Frodo's predicament began to take toll on him, as his split personalities began to fight within him. What was he missing? Did he really want to die?

He needed help, someone to guide him. He missed Sam…

There was something bouncing against his chest; a pouch. Curious, he took the furry thing that had been slung around his neck and opened it to find a golden ball catching his eyes. He drew it out, mesmerized by the intricate patterns and the coolness of the metal between his fingers.

Then at the center the metal began to shift, into words. For a moment, Frodo's heart leapt to his mouth. His first thought was, _Oh no, not another friggin' inscription._

But he relaxed as the words revealed not to be the Black Speech of Mordor in Tengwar, but in plain simple English.

_I open at the close._

What in Sam('s) Hill? Frodo scratched his head furiously. This wasn't as bad as the Tengwar, but it was not good either. It reminded him of the chapter 'Riddles in the Dark' from his Uncle Bilbo's book.

I open…there was something inside the ball; something important that it needed a riddle to be solved, in order to be opened. Frodo shook the ball. It wasn't much of a sound that sounded throughout the interior of the ball, but with his Tookish genes and Bilbo's burglar instincts, he picked up the slight rattling of an object.

Curiosity overwhelmed him, so much that it temporarily took away his dilemma over his death. He felt the need to open this ball – snitch, his mind said.

Frodo ran up to a tree and began to knock the snitch against it, somewhat hopping it might split open. It didn't budge, and when he thought he had begun to hear the tree moaning, he gave up, stepped back, and kept his distance. He then tried dropping the snitch, but it would not give way.

"Argh!" he yelled, infuriated, "I'm about to die so just…Argh!"

Frodo pressed the snitch against his lips to prevent himself from letting loose a string of profanities.

And then he heard a click.

* * *

**A/N: The irony...Frodo has Bilbo's burglar instincts but not his brains to solve riddles...Hope you enjoyed it!**


	6. Chapter 6: Many Greetings

**A/N: Sorry haven't updated in a while...****_EXAMS..._****you cannot imagine my sheer desperation for a dose of Felix Felicis.****Well here it is, the Sixth Chapter.**

* * *

Harry ran back to his failed attempt of a tent, panting. He was quite sure, when he returned back into his own body, he was sure to pass his physical fitness test.

They had almost seen him, the company, because he had taken a tad bit long to admire the beauty of the Western Air Temple. It was unlike anything he had seen back in England, so natural, even with the upside down structures and the platforms. It must've been the calamity of it all, the water fountains, the cooling mist…Harry had only been shaken back to reality when the flying cow's moo echoed through the Temple.

Now he began to ponder on how he was to approach the group without being skinned alive.

Should he tell them? "Hi, I'm not who you think I am, not a suck-up, snobbish prince, but an ordinary, burdened boy named Harry Potter from London that got zapped to this world by three voodoo elders that all look like shriveled prunes. So yeah, I don't know a single one of you so can we start on a clean slate?" Sure, they'd accept him – right after they beat the crap out of him and throw him off the side of the Temple. The only thing that they gang would be convinced of was that Zuko had finally snapped, had really erratic mood swings and could start blasting fire at them any second.

Harry tried another approach. "Hi, I'm Har – Zuko, I mean, yea, I guess you've probably met me before, threw a bacon at my head…uh, so, the thing is, I have a lot of firebending experience…sort of…and now I'm good. I probably thought I was good before but then I was bad, ugh…but anyway, I'd like to join your group and help you fight your war…"

Harry stared at the bullfrog in front of him. Three seconds passed in awkward silence. It reminded him of Neville's jumpy frog Trevor, except this one had white markings on it, and that it just sat there, unmoving.

"Well?!" demanded Harry. "What's your answer?"

It was in that moment that the frog chose to react, and it took a great leap onto his hair, and another out of it into the dense forest.

"Yeah," sighed Harry, "That's what I would say to such a jerk as well."

He straightened and looked around him. How was he supposed to convince those people he was on their side?

What would Sirius do? "_We've all got both light and dark inside us, it's the side we chose to act on."_ He did not see how that was going to help him. He'd already chosen a side, though a very difficult one to get on.

What would Draco do? "_Listen, Avatar, you will let me join your group or…or _my father will hear about this!_ Your choice."_ No, that didn't seem like the right approach.

He squatted, defeated. "Guess I'm not that good at impersonations."

Even the toad, which had hopped back in front of him, seemed to agree.

He decided just to play-by-ear, hoping maybe an amnesia excuse might just come in handy. After all, he had no memories of Zuko's life, didn't he?

_Eh, fat chance,_ taunted his conscience. As always, Harry ignored it.

So he went back down to the Air Temple and approached the company. It took them a while to notice him, as he had positioned himself right behind the bison's manatee like tail, giving himself sometime to register his audience.

A – blimey was she blind? – girl with fair complexion and short jet-black hair. _Toph Beifong._

A taller boy with tanned skin and dark hair tied in a neat ponytail – wait ponytail? The bacon thrower. _Sokka._

A girl with the same skin tone, and same dark flowing hair. _Katara. _There was something about Katara that radiated; anger, bitterness.

And there was a young fair boy, no older than thirteen, with blue arrow tattoos on his forehead and limbs. _Aang._

_The Avatar._

Somehow the blind girl Toph sensed his presence, and Appa moved aside, revealing him. Well, this was it. He took a deep breath.

"Hi. Zuko here."

* * *

At first there wasn't any change in the crystalline substance. Then Zuko spotted a spark, a flicker of white light, that grew into a full out, glaring silver light. It calmed him much more that he now had a brighter perception of the tunnel.

Yet, as quickly as his calamity arrived, it was taken from him, by the crunch of a bone just behind him.

Oh spirits. Slowly, he turned, and he was quite sure he would never forget the next few terrifying minutes in his life.

He came face to face with a giant Arachnid, as big as Appa, with four eyes closely squashed together and a gaping mouth equipped four vicious chelicerae and what appeared to be two teeth.

_Aragog! _His mind screamed. _Oh wait, apologies, that was the script for Harry…okay here it is. Shelob!_

Zuko sprung upon his feet, stumbling backwards, trying to avoid the webs as much as possible. He instinctively unsheathed his sword, and when the spider made a lunge, he took a slash at one of the legs, and the arachnid reared back slightly. He held up the light, blinding the creature temporarily, and making a mad dash from the monster. He sprinted through the tunnels, making a frequent turn to flare the light at the creature.

He took another fall, and, bless his luck, this time it was into a small narrow hole, into another tunnel. Fortunately, Shelob was too big to squeeze through, but Zuko could not rest. He knew the spider would find him, after all these were her tunnels, and he was the piece of meat running around, wasn't he?

So he ran, as fast as Frodo's little hobbit legs could take him, his hobbit footfalls surprisingly soft and light.

Stupid him, he had to choose the wrong moment to look back. He ran right into a huge web.

His feet dangled helplessly, and he struggled futilely against the strong, sticky webs. Ahead, he saw a streak of dim light; his freedom from these stinking caves – so close, yet so far.

He heard the spider creeping up, ever so slowly. His stomach twisted into knots. Panic rose in him, so much that he felt his pants become slightly damp.

Oh great, Zuko the Fire Prince, wetting his pants. How nice.

"Little, little spider…why does she cry?" came a singsong voice from behind the boulder. Gollum. "Caught in a web…soon to be…" His last word lowered into a growl.

"…_eaten_."

* * *

Frodo watched in awe as the center of the snitch gave way to reveal a interior compartment, containing a small grey stone that began to rise ever so slowly. He scooped the stone up in his hands, unknowing of the power it possessed. What was he supposed to do with a piece of rock?

He closed his eyes, wrapping his cold stiff fingers around the stone. Oh, how he wished Samwise were here to help him, or even Bilbo…

Dear Uncle Bilbo…he wondered how that bimbo was doing…

"Just fine, thank you very much," replied a voice from behind him. Frodo swiveled around in shock. How…?

Sure enough, there was his old uncle, staring up at him. Frodo was momentarily paralyzed.

"How in Pippin's pits…?" he started, found his legs, and staggered backwards. The feet of the Big People weren't at all like the light quiet hobbit feet, and there was a lot of snapping branches.

"Well, what do we have here, a Big Person who likes to swear in the name of Master Peregrin's underarms," said Bilbo, showing no sign of recognition. "Now, if you can just tell me where in Middle-earth I am I can get back to the my own business and worry about my dear Frodo and his ring."

"Uncle Bilbo!" cried Frodo, a little upset that Bilbo no longer recognized him. "It is I, Frodo, just…not quite a hobbit anymore. And we aren't really in Middle-earth anymore…"

"Good Gondor!" huffed Bilbo, somewhat irritated. "I was resting in my warm comfortable room in Elrond's House, blowing nice big smoke rings, when I hear your annoying voice in my head, then _whoosh! _I'm teleported to this cold dark place of a forest looking at my youthful nephew, who's transformed into one of the Big People, with a new fashion style that could make even the Goblin King faint."

"Hey, it's not my fault this guy wears a shirt that smells of…" Frodo sniffed the blue shirt. "Ugh…does he ever change?"

"Without your mother, I wouldn't expect you to go shopping, would I?" asked a light and feminine voice. Frodo turned, and as he did, he realized that Bilbo had not been the only one who had appeared. Four others stood staring at him: A man with a receding hairline and a cute little mustache, tire and weariness written all over his face; Another with a beard and ragged tousled hair that reached his shoulders, his eyes as black as night; A woman with urban, red flaming hair, her stunning green eyes soft and motherly; And a man…holy Mirkwood, he looked just like Harry.

That was when Frodo began to notice something off about them. He walked forward slowly, reaching for the woman, who had also outstretched her hand.

Sure enough, where his hand was supposed to touch flesh, there was nothing but air.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! Please review, so that _someone_ (*hint! hint!*) won't be so lonely.**


	7. Chapter 7: Desperate Disparates

**Disclaimer: Just a reminder that i'm a fan, not a owner. **

**A/N: Thanks to all reviewers, especially Sakuragurl. **

* * *

Almost immediately all four of the company assumed fighting stances, their eyes filled with hatred and determination to withstand him as much as they could.

"I guess you guys must be surprised to see me here…" Harry started, but Sokka cut him off.

"Not really," he said spitefully, "since you've followed us around the entire world."

Gosh, another quality to add to Harry's never ending list of Zuko's personality: Desperate.

"Look, I know, I've done some pretty bad things…"

"Like when you attacked our village?" Sokka cut across again.

"Or when you used my mother's necklace to track us?" demanded Katara.

"…but I've changed," Harry assured. "I'm good now…I can teach the Avatar firebending," he added hastily.

There was a moment of silence as the company took this in. "No way," whispered Sokka in disbelief.

"You want to what now?!" demanded Toph.

"Don't treat us like idiots, Zuko," snapped Katara. "Don't expect us to believe you."

"Yeah!" followed Sokka. "All you've done is try to hunt us down and capture Aang!"

"Look I'm sorry for everything I've done!" apologized Harry, though he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for. "I'm sorry I tried to capture you, I'm sorry I attacked the Water Tribe." He ran a hand through his still-messy hair. Wow, this was unfair, making him do all the apologizing for something he didn't do. This stunk; as bad as unicorn turd. "And I'm sorry I sent that assassin after you; I'm going to try and – "

"What in Heibai's black and white rump?!"

Harry looked up, and saw that their eyes were all as wide as Dobby's tennis ball-like ones.

"You sent Combustion man after us?" cried Sokka, drawing his razor sharp boomerang.

"I don't think that's his name, but – "

"Oh, I'm sorry to insult your friend – "

"He's not my friend!" protested Harry indignantly.

"That guy locked me and Katara in jail and tried to blow us all up!" yelled Toph, furious. Harry thought he could feel the earth beneath his feet tremble slightly. And at that moment, he knew his attempt had failed terribly.

He turned to the boy Aang. "Why aren't you saying anything?" Harry asked softly. "I'm sure you know I have good in me."

The Avatar seemed to consider it for a while, before his expression hardened into a cold hard stare. "There's no way we can trust you after everything you've done." His tone was final.

Harry was stumped. Unable to think straight, he found himself upon his knees. "If you won't take me as a friend, then maybe you'll take me as a prisoner." Wow, he must be really desperate.

"No, we won't!" came Katara's sharp, bitter voice.

And following it came a big bucket full of blasting water.

* * *

Betrayal and hatred, gave to Zuko the adrenaline he'd never experienced before. He gave a yell of anguish, and swiped through the webs that annoyed him so, determination coursing through his veins, blood rushing to his head.

Gollum's eyes widen in fear, he scrambled backwards and out of sight, but Zuko was sure he hadn't seen the last of that malevolent creature; he'd make sure of that.

He sliced through the last of the web, and tumbled forwards before the vicious fangs of Shelob could hook onto his suspenders – who wears those things? – and hurried out of the horrid cave.

He didn't even have the time to take a breather, for the next thing he knew, there were two sets of cold, bony fingers, grabbing hold of his head.

"You took it away, the precious?" growled the voice, of Zuko's most despised creature. "Not this time. _Not this time!" _Gollum scrambled for the chain around Zuko's neck.

"No! Get away you stinking piece of Appa's toenail!" yelled Zuko furiously, and struggled to protect the Ring from the prying fingers.

Frustrated, Gollum seized him by the suspenders (see? That is how much trouble those things can cause) and flung him against the rock, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

Yet, Gollum's recent betrayal fueled Zuko with the strength and rage to recover quickly from the attack and rush back at the creature without hesitation, slamming him upon the ground. He began to pummel the creature with his fists, every punch filled with hot white rage. Then, without thinking, he wrapped his hands around Gollum's bony neck, so tightly that the creature began to cry out in agony.

"It wasn't us! It wasn't us!" wailed Gollum, his tone desperate. "Smeagol wouldn't hurt master! We promised! You must believe us!"

Zuko stare was hard and emotionless when he looked into Gollum's sunken cheeks and dull blue eyes, which might have once belonged to a healthy, young hobbit.

"It was the precious!" yelled Gollum finally, causing Zuko to pause. "The precious made us do it!"

It struck Zuko that this creature was what he was today because of the Ring. Without it, Gollum wouldn't have fallen under its command and control, and might've still been clean and untouched by the poison of the accursed gold. Perhaps, it was pointless to kill the pathetic, worthless, already-suffering creature. Perhaps, causing him more pain could be done, by letting him live.

Zuko fell back. He stared for a while, as Gollum gasped and turned on his side, his breaths coming in rapid gasps.

"I have to destroy it, Smeagol," said Zuko, as he painstakingly pulled himself up into a standing position. "For both of our sorry sakes."

He began to stagger away.

But he hadn't even reached a meter, before the cold bony body flung itself on him again.

"No!"

* * *

"Holy Grandma Took!" cried Frodo. "You guys are ghosts!"

"Of course," said the woman. "We're dead. There's a reason that stone in your hand is called the Resurrection Stone – James, I told you we should've given him proper education."

"We're dead, Lily."

"I know that, James. But how about Sirius?"

"Me? Remus was the one teaching him at Hogwarts."

"Wait," interrupted Frodo, just as Remus was about to open his mouth to reply. He turned to Bilbo in shock. "Doesn't that mean…you're dead? I thought…"

"I'm dead for Haven's Sake, in this time," he said. "Sometimes, Frodo my lad, I really wonder what goes on in that brain of yours."

"But then Pippin, and Meriadoc, and Sam…" Frodo lowered his voice, so that only Bilbo could hear, "shouldn't they have been…"

"My soul has no business for now in Middle-earth. They're in the middle of a world war back in Middle-earth," said Bilbo. "Would you really want them to be cast away from their battle and get stabbed by an Orc, or maybe even squashed by the buttocks of a Oliphaunt? Oh, good grief, imagine being sat on by a moving hill."

For the first time, Frodo felt a pang of guilt. He was the Ringbearer, the one whom which all Middle-earth had been depending on, and yet he'd been all happy to leave his duties. Everyone else was fighting for the world they loved, including his peace-loving hobbit friends, and here he was, having a nice nighttime chat with his dear old uncle.

No, he didn't want to think of that now.

He pushed his conflicting feelings away, and turned to the rest of the people. "Then why are you here? All of you?"

The woman Lily smiled. "We never left."

Ok…wasn't exactly the answer he was looking for, but Frodo supposed he'd just have to go with it, no matter how creepy it sounded.

"I'm sorry, about all of you," said Frodo.

To his surprise, they smiled.

"Well, one day, others will tell of our deaths," said the man Remus, "and our legacies shall be known."

Frodo nodded in agreement. Indeed, he wondered if Sam had asked Rosie Cotton out earlier, that hobbit wouldn't have so much to worry about dying.

Speaking of dying…

"Does it hurt?" asked Frodo. He turned to the man Sirius. "Dying."

"Quicker than falling asleep," he replied with a warm smile, filling Frodo with a little reassurance.

He looked around at the rest. "You'll stay with me." Frodo was unsure of whether to post it as a question or a statement.

"To the end," replied James, his smile radiating some sort of fatherly love.

"He won't be able to see you?" Frodo asked.

"No," replied Bilbo and Sirius simultaneously.

The hobbit stared up at the man towering above him, slightly irked."Come on, for the sake of Bombur's fats, let me have a line!"

Sirius raised his hands in obligingness, giving in to the angry little hobbit.

"Big People," muttered Bilbo rather irritably, before turning back to Frodo. "Anyways, as I was saying, we, will always be here." He raised his hand and pointed at something; that something being Frodo's heart.

The exact thing that he knew would stop so soon.


	8. Chapter 8: At Death's Door

**A/N: This chapter was specially reserved to be posted up today. Happy B'day to ALWAYShp1.**

* * *

Harry didn't sleep very well that night. For one thing, the sound of Katara's cold, harsh voice still rang in his head.

_Get out of here! If we ever see you again…well, we'd better not see you again!_

Ah darn, Katara sounded like Sirius' mother.

But he'd been stupid to do such a thing. Telling them he sent an assassin after them? Why couldn't he have just said Azula did it? She seemed to be a pretty nasty girl, if she could shoot someone with lightning without thinking twice.

Harry turned on his side, unaffected by the hard ground that lay beneath him; he'd been doing it for months of hiding from Voldemort. As the flames of his fire cast dancing shadows across the ground, his eyelids finally grew heavy, and they closed and shut him into darkness.

Alas, he slept no longer than a minute before he heard a disturbance in the bushes.

"Who's there?" he demanded, jerking awake. "Stay back!" He sat up, and instinctively sent a wave of fire out into the woods, just before he heard the voice of a girl yell out and the sound of earth being summoned.

'It's me!" It was Toph. Son of a Witch…the fire…

Sure enough, there was an ear piercing scream, and as Harry rubbed his eyes, he saw that Toph's feet were as red as Ron's hair.

"You burned my feet!" she cried, outraged.

"I'm sorry!" Harry leapt upon his feet. "It was a mistake!" He sprinted towards her.

Yet, the route to Toph wasn't as straightforward as he had expected.

"Get away from me!"

She sent chunks of rock flying in his direction, and fortunately for him he managed to dodge all with amazing speed and agility like one of a cat. He tried to explain as he leapt, and even caught hold of her shoulder once, but that had been a terrible mistake.

"Get off me! Get off me!" she sent a pillar of earth at him, and it hit his abdomen, hard, he flew through the air, landing with a loud thud, thanking Merlin he hadn't broken his spine.

His new injury held him back, and all he could do after that was watch helplessly as Toph scrambled away, and curse himself throughout the night.

However, his conscience nagged him throughout the night, and the next morning, he made it his duty to go back to their camp and apologize like a true Gryffindor.

But he realized, as he neared, that someone had beaten him to it. And he knew straight away, that that someone wanted to kill them.

Of all his years of insane magic, Harry thought his next act was the stupidest of all.

He grabbed a vine, and swung towards the man with spiked armor and a death canon for a forehead.

* * *

Unable to resist any longer, the cold, dead weight shoved Zuko backwards against a deadly steep ledge. Without thinking, he instinctively pushed the creature off his and Gollum was thrown backwards, down into that deep dark abyss where there seemed to be no bottom. The creature tumbled deeper into the darkness, until there was nothing left but his screams of anguish and rage.

Breathing hard, Zuko stared for a while into the darkness, before turning over once again to stagger upon his weary feet.

He stumbled along the rocky path, still dizzy from the recent events, unable to perceive where he was going for the following seconds. He only knew he was headed for that strange orange glow up ahead, but was too dazed to remember why. His head swum, black spots dotted his vision, and fatigue once again began to take over his body.

"I'm sorry Sam," he found himself saying; he was truly sorry however, by doubting such a good-hearted hobo – hobbit, gosh, now that he had begun to respect them, he should really start pronouncing it right. "I'm very sorry."

He collapsed, but where he was supposed to fall onto cold hard, ground, he fell upon soft, warm grass.

Holy Omashu, was he dead? Was he in the Spirit World? Strange enough, there was a slight tingling of hope.

He lifted his head slightly, seeing a white gown sweeping across the wet grass towards him. Slowly, his eyes travelled up the long, flowing dress, to the face of a fair blonde woman, with ears as pointed as his double broadswords (speaking of which, he wondered whether the clumsy doofus that got his life had broken them yet).

Her thin, pink lips remained closed, yet her voice seemed to set off in Zuko's mind.

_"This task, Frodo of the Shire, was appointed to you. If you do not find a way, no one will." _

The words itself, to Zuko, sounded as if he was being pressured, yet, coming from these fair lips, it renewed him with a little strength and encouragement. Where had he heard this beautiful voice before?

It took him a while to recognize the voice, but when he did, he realized it was the same calming voice that had spoken to him in the tunnel. So this was the fair maiden that owned it.

She bent down and stretched out a pale, elegant hand, her bright blue eyes shining with faith and hope.

Now, lying there in the warm, fresh forest, Zuko's hardest choice was whether to take it.

* * *

The night was silent. The animals, if there had been any, made no noise. The trees of the Forbidden Forest seemed to bear down upon him, as much as death hung in the air. So silent, that he could hear voices in the distance.

"No sign of him, my lord." There seemed to be some hesitance in the voice that spoke, a tremble of slight fear.

There was a moment of silence, before a whisper of another voice spoke. "I thought he would come." This tone was harsh and demonic, intertwined with laces of disappointment. It was soft, yet it sent shivers down Frodo's back, and almost seemed as if it could freeze even the penguins of Antarctica.

He neared the clearing where a gathering of people stood, all clad in clothes as black as midnight; so black that they seemed to blend in with the solid black night around them, as if they were dressed in the darkness itself.

There was one man that was unlike them. He was neither a man nor a giant, it seemed, for the crown of his head appeared to brush the lowest branches of the trees, yet he did not tower over them, as Frodo suspected the actual giants would have – Frodo shuddered; their huge carcasses he had seen strewn in the courtyard of Hogwarts.

Then there was another man that stood out; this one was a bald man with deathly white skin, whiter than the elves of Mirkwood (he doubted those elves ever heard of sun tanning, having no sun in that darkness of a forest) whiter than the halls of Rivendell. He turned as he sensed Frodo's presence, and the very sight of him sent another wave of even bigger shivers down the hobbit's spine. Especially the nose – if he even had one. So this was Harry's version of 'the Dark Lord', or 'the Enemy'. Frodo locked eyes with him, unwilling to show weakness.

"Harry?" the half-giant leaned forwards to get a closer look at Frodo, his eyes widened as big as Gollum's. "No! What're yer doin' here?!"

"Silence!" snapped a man, and the bonds around the half-giant were tightened.

The corners of the man's lips curled, that small twitch twisting his face into a devilish smile. Still Frodo refused to back down in this mini yet terrifying staring competition.

"The boy who lived," he said, raising the stick in his white ghostly fingers_._ "Come to die."

Having no wands in Middle-earth, Frodo's first thought was: What in Minas Morgul was he going to do with a stick? But his intuition told him it was a murder weapon, and that it's past was soaked with spilled blood.

So all Frodo did was close his eyes, and remembered the last words he exchanged with Lily Potter.

_"Stay close to me."_

_"Always."_

And with that, he heard the shout of "Avada Kedavra!" and a flash of blinding green light.

After that, the next thing he found himself doing was screaming at a man that looked very much like Gandalf.

* * *

**"The last enemy that shall be conquered is death."**


	9. Chapter 9: Decisions & Delusions

**A/N: Sorry for the wait...Ah well, I typed this chapter in a luxurious hotel room somewhere over the rainbow...hope it didn't get too bad with my holiday inertia kicking in...anyways, thanks for the reviews :)**

* * *

Harry didn't know if he wanted to jump in joy or put the Cruciatus Curse on himself. He was delighted at his good timing, just barely managing to knock the assassin off his aim. That was one good trait the gang would be able to see in him.

Then the assassin turned to him.

In the panic of the moment Harry flung out his arms, ordering the man to stop. Yet the man swatted him away like a house elf, before sending another dangerously close blow at the gang.

Harry found himself ten times crazier when he rushed at the man with a fist of flames, and yelling at the man who was a head taller than him. Of course, the only thing he hit was the floor when the man stopped him without effort. He tried to convince the man again, but when it failed, he struck the man in the chest futilely before using it to propel himself to the other end of the ledge.

That was when the assassin really turned his attention to him. He aimed a blast at Harry, who instinctively encased himself in a barrier of fire. The impact struck him hard, and it threw him off the ledge. Harry remembered free falling for a few terrifying seconds, before he was able to grab onto a vine with amazing agility and strength. Wow, perhaps he'd underestimated this stuck-up scarred prince after all.

As he climbed, there was a lot of blasts and crumbling pieces as the fight wore on. But then there was the sound striking metal, followed by a huge explosion that nearly caused Harry to loose his grip.

"Oh for the love of Snape's snot, will you give me a break?"

Fortunately, he made it to the top in one piece. Aching all over, but in one piece.

There he confronted the gang. Again. Harry prayed on the name of his late Nimbus 2000 that it wouldn't go as disastrous as the last.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Aang started softly, "but, thanks, Zuko." The harshness in his tone was gone, but there still seemed to be some skeptical hardness in his eyes.

"Hey, what about me?" cut in Sokka, "I did the boomerang thing?" So that was the metal strike. Sokka posed in an aiming stance, as if reliving in the glory of his precise attack.

Harry continued walking towards the gang. "Listen, I know I didn't explain myself very well yesterday, but I've been through a lot lately" – _more than you realize, _thought Harry, but didn't say – "and I realized…"

After that Harry said some things about honor he didn't bother to remember, but he did recall turning to Toph. "I'm sorry about your feet, it was an accident. Fire can be dangerous in the wild, so as a firebender, I need to be more careful, and control my bending, so I don't hurt people unintentionally." Here he thought of Crabbe's Fiendfyre that nearly killed his closet friends.

"I think you _are _supposed to be my firebending teacher," said Aang finally, and Harry noticed Sokka's jaw dropping. "When I first tried to learn firebending, I burned Katara, and after that, I never wanted to firebend again. But now I know you understand how easy it is to hurt the people you love." Harry felt a tinge of regret, remembering the time he'd lashed out at Ron, saying things about him being a mommy's boy. Darn, that _was_ pretty insulting, since it was indirectly referring the redhead to Draco, a daddy's boy.

Aang bowed. "I'd like you to teach me."

Harry bit his lip – hard, to prevent himself from screaming in joy over his success. He closed his eyes, almost swooning, but managed to muster up his composure to return the bow. "Thank you."

Harry straightened, barely controlling his excitement. "I'm so happy you've accepted me into your group."

"Not so fast, I still have to ask my friends if it's okay with them."

Mermaid Muck, he'd been so close.

However, they all took him in at last, Toph claiming she'd have more time to make even with him – a shiver of dread ran down his spine; the exact spot which had nearly been injured from Toph's previous attack – Sokka going with the flow, and Katara…well, she seemed the most unconvinced, but she grudgingly accepted him anyways, though Harry got an earful from her later. He didn't mind, for it went in one ear and out the other, just as he had done those days back in Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

* * *

The refreshing atmosphere of the forest seemed to envelope him. The warm grass tickled his flesh, the scent of damp leaves filling his nostrils, and with the beaming fresh sun shining down on his stiff, worn-out body, he wanted to stay there forever, and not return to the horrid dark paths in Mordor.

But then his conscience tugged at him, nagging him to take that pale hand of the elf-maiden. It told him that she was right; that he did indeed have a duty to fulfill back in Middle-earth…but…

He looked into her waiting eyes, which now said, _"Oh damn Faramir's farts, just get up, Senior Hotman!"_

That did it. _You'r lucky I don't have my firebending powers_, thought Zuko angrily, and reached out for the hand. The elf-maiden smiled, pulling him up upon his feet.

Yet, as soon as he had stood upright, he was flashed back into the dark path under the dark gloomy skies. Now he pushed on however, his memory of his task returned to him, towards that strange orange light that looked similar to the lights that illuminated his cozy room back in the Fire Nation palace, yet different. Sure enough, as he neared it, he realized it was far from his chamber lights. It was attractive, yes, but not in a comfortable, embracing way. It was more of a sinister pull, a lure. He felt like a mouse scurrying for the cheese, right into the mousetrap. But the Ring did indeed begin to grow heavier, as if sensing its near victory of its quest to find its master.

It was a dark looming tower, black as the shadows it cast, foreboding as the flaming orange eye that made Zuko's skin crawl. The Eye of the Enemy.

Behind it, an equally menacing volcano sat, rumbling with a menace almost as fierce as Iroh's stomach when he was hungry. Mt Doom.

However, just as he was about to take another step, there was a noise just behind him. Zuko whipped around, all his comfort received from Galadriel torn away. He found nothing, but his stomach still continued to twist. There was something there, but where?

Perhaps it had been his imagination. Turning around, he prepared to continue down the path.

Not before a giant sting pierced his abdomen and sent him into darkness.

* * *

When Frodo woke, he was relieved, but disturbed. He felt free of his burden, yet...not quite free of the world. It was as if he was dead, but alive. He wasn't too sure of what genuine death was like, but he had a tingling sensation in his guts that this wasn't right. It reminded him of Lothlórien, a heavenly place for souls of the living. Or like the halls of Moria - just whiter.

The ex-hobbit sat up, observing the heavenly place. It was almost completely opposite to the Forbidden Forest, so different from where he'd been mere seconds ago. It was dry, warm, welcoming...and bright, yes, it certainly bright, so bright that it could possibly compete with the unnaturally luminous Lady Galadriel.

Then there was a whimper, a raspy breaths taken with pain and agony. Curious, Frodo stood, making his way to the bench from under which the noise sounded. Seeing it, all his curiosity was instantly replaced by utter shock and disgust as he scrambled backwards by about a meter.

It was a pathetic. Curled up and shivering, the creature lay with its long spindly limbs shriveled and thin to the bone. It made Frodo's hair stand on ends, a cold shiver of detest running down his spine. It wasn't at all surprising to have such a feeling, however, for with the exception of the blood that seemed as red as Gimli's beard, it looked his most despised. Gollum.

Then came a voice he'd never expected.

"Leave it, you can help it no longer."

Frodo spun around, staring as a man walked out from amidst the light that had been wrapped around him.

There was that white long beard that nearly brushed the floor like a mop (It might have been useful - perhaps for Old Butterbur to clean his beer splattered floors of The Prancing Pony). Those striking blue eyes the color of frost. The white robes tinted with a hue of grey. Frodo felt lightheaded.

"Ga...Gan...G-Gandalf...?!" He choked his words out with difficulty. "You...you died...fell into the darkness of Moria, because your old man legs refused to move faster from that perilous bridge of Khazad-Dûm..."

"I'm not Gandalf the Grey, Master Baggins of the Shire," said the man. "I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, a lover of Acid Pops, of which a hobbit of the humble Hobbiton would haven't the slightest clue of."

There was a moment of silence that followed as Frodo processed the information.

"You have a lot of names" was all he could manage before he blanked out and collapsed.

"Yes, indeed I do. All as practical as my mindset," replied Dumbledore to the out-cold hobbit, and popped a summoned lemon drop into his mouth for no other reason.


	10. Chapter 10: Gay Numbness

**A/N: So I haven't really been in the mood to type; more in the Wicked spazzing mood because of a particular someone...oh well, i've finished this chap, so please R&R!**

* * *

There was black sticky goo all over him.

The only thing he'd been staring at for the past four hours were stars.

His limbs were getting dangerously numb.

How they got stuck in this mess, Harry felt like blaming Aang.

But he couldn't. After all, _he_ was the one who had forgotten how to firebend, after his conscience peaced out, having served it's annoying purpose to convince him to do good. _He_ was the one who suggested coming to the temple. _He_ was the one who pushed Aang on even when booby traps like trip-rope-activated spikes nearly killed the kid. _He_ was the one who had to be so smart, and solve the riddle of the sundial. He cursed his Gryffindor brawns and Slytherin brains.

Most of all, he knew _he_ was the one who agreed to do the dragon dance with Aang, and activate the pedestal that rose to reveal the golden egg.

Next to him, Aang groaned. "You _had _to pick up the golden egg."

"I thought it would give us a clue, just like in the Triwi – " he caught himself quickly, realizing his mistake. "Well, at least I made something happen!" he said defensively. "If it were up to you, we'd never would've made it past the courtyard!" He sneaked a glance at Aang, hoping the boy hadn't noticed his careless slip of the tongue. Luckily the airbender had been busy – gathering air? – to hear anything.

"_HELP_!" Well, there went his eardrums.

"Who the _hell_ are you yelling to?" asked Harry, oblivious to the fact that he was shouting, his ears still ringing. "Nobody's going to hear you! I doubt anyone's lived here for centuries!"

"Well what do you suppose we should do?" asked Aang.

Harry stared up into the sky, the stars that shone like mini lanterns afloat on a never-ending midnight ocean. "Think about our place in the Universe?"

As he said it, his mind began to turn. What _was_ his place in the Universe? Another boy? A mere lab rat of the A.S.S? He wondered how many more members of the A.S.S there were. He wondered how many people had been scarred somewhat, how many people had the cumbersome weight of their world's fate upon them.

He could think no further, for his train of thought was interrupted when a footfall landed near to their gooey prison.

"Who's down there?"

A man stood over them, looking at them with hostility and doubt.

Ten minutes later however, he stood in front of them, watching as they were being licked by…um…goo-eaters?

And another man that was beside him held the egg as if it was his baby, stroking it like a gay father.

Well, now that could've been Ron in the Fourth Year.

_Or Dumbledore,_ thought Harry.

* * *

It was a painful thing, drifting in and out of consciousness. It gave Zuko piercing migraines, and the fact that Shelob had just dropped him roughly upon the ground did not help.

He didn't know what caused the spider to release him, and his vision was blurred and constantly veiled by a panel of darkness. His body was numb, blood in his ears pounding rapidly to the beat of his panic-stricken heart.

He heard muffled sounds of a sword stabbing flesh, and the screech of the arachnid. It filled him with hope. Hope to fight the darkness that was quickly closing in on him.

There was more screeching and stabbing, and from the corner of his eye Zuko saw a light being flashed at the creature. He knew it was the light of Eärendil_,_ for there was no brighter light in such a dark foreboding place like Mordor. His 'hope meter' went up.

Finally there was a last screech from Shelob, as she was forced back into the dark of her caves. The sword was set down, and the web in his face was pulled back. The first thing Zuko saw was a round blurred figure, and again, he forgot where he was. _Uncle Iroh?_

But then he realized, when he saw the golden-brown blur of hair, that it was Samwise. Zuko made a mental note to try and stop mistaking the courageous caring hobbit for his food-loving uncle.

Sam was saying something to him. As much as he wanted to hear it, Zuko could not get his hearing to work. Yet, however, he did eventually catch snippets of the sentences. And once he did, he regretted it, for his hope plummeted and his horror rose.

"…don't go where I can't follow…no…you're not sleeping…you're _dead_."

Zuko swore he wanted the jump at the hobbit's throat if his hands weren't tied to his ass. Oh my, déjà vu…ancient things just loved tying him up, didn't they?

Something caused the hobbit to scramble to his feet and dart away, and Zuko knew that something wasn't good.

_"Don't leave me Sam, you blinking idiot!"_ Zuko wanted to yell. _"I thought you'd be better than your death-yearning hobbit lad Dodo!"_

But he couldn't get Sam to come back. His fate was in the hands of whatever was now stomping down towards him.

And that whatever, he realized, happened to be the first thing Frodo had uttered when Zuko had first woken the hobbit.

_"Orcs!"_

* * *

"Gosh, where am I? I just had a super strange dream when I saw Gandalf, but it wasn't Gandalf, just some other weird nincompoop that had a lot of nonsensical second names…"

"You are in your head, and what time it is I have no clue," said a voice. "It is the night of Voldemort's attack, if you want to know."

"That was not a dream…" Frodo groaned, looking up at Dumbledore.

"Yes, I am here, and you're lucky to be here too, after all the absurd…no that's not the right word…_otherworldly_ things you've done since leaving home," said Dumbledore, flashing Frodo a rather amused smile. Oh goodness, this man was so much like Gandalf…Frodo pushed away the thought of the Grey Wizard, a sting of sadness piercing his heart.

"But well," continued Dumbledore, seemingly oblivious to the hobbit's grief." I don't know if you were dreaming while you were sprawled on the floor snoring, but if you were, that'd be interesting. Dreams in a dream; dreaming a dream."

"I don't want dreams anymore," said Frodo, swallowing a lump down his dry throat. "My biggest dream was to have an adventure like Bilbo's, and look where it landed my sorry bottom? So no thank you, I'd like no more sleep, just a eternity of colorless peace."

"Is that really what you want, Frodo of the Shire?" asked Dumbledore. "To die, and leave your friends to fight your battles, to fight for a quest you abandoned? To let them die for what you gave up?"

"Shut up!" yelled Frodo, cupping his hands over his ears, suddenly agitated. "I was constantly being chased by Ringwraiths, Black Wings, Barrow-wights, orcs, goblins, trolls, Istari, men, oh, and other creatures…" Frodo trailed off with a shiver, thinking of the malicious Gollum. "Nonetheless, I want no more trouble, thank you very much, I'm quite glad to now be relieved at last. Perhaps I can see Gandalf at last."

"Let me tell you a couple of things, Mr Frodo Baggins," said Dumbledore. "Firstly, Gandalf is no longer here."

"What do you mean, no longer here?"

"He turned up here a few months ago stripped as bare as a centaur, and I rather courteously dressed him."

"You _what?!_"

"Dressed him," repeated Dumbledore matter-of-factly. "Buttoned his robes, combed his terribly tangled grey hair. Oh yes, I pulled on his underwear as well, how could I forget that – "

"Stop, _stop_!" cried Frodo, covering his ears again. "I do _not_ need to know how you dressed another man!"

"It was fun," said Dumbledore, oblivious to Frodo's plight. "You should try that sometime on Samwise, though I might add it may not be as easy pulling the loincloth up his – "

"STOP!" Frodo was now shouting at the top of his voice. "Can we please change the topic and get serious for once?"

Dumbledore looked askance at Frodo.

"Did you just ask me to get Sirius?"

Frodo could do nothing but scream and run into a pillar.

Repeatedly.

* * *

**A/N: There was a Les Mis reference! Did ya see it? i don't know if you saw if but did ya see it? Ah well, please review :) Oh and if you do, tell me your favorite line. **


	11. Chapter 11: Double Trouble

**A/N: I really don't see how anyone can miss Anne Hathway running around as a prostitute singing about the hell she's living.**

**Not-Gonna-Login: I don't like you.**

* * *

"So, we trudge up a mountain, go to some unknown territory, not knowing if we'll come back in one piece."

"If that is what the Tribal Master requires of us, I suppose we ought to do as he says, isn't it?"

"And you aren't even afraid of being charred by these 'Masters'."

"I'm a twelve year old boy with the fear of nightmares. Do you think I'm not?"

"You're a hundred and twelve, to be precise," corrected Harry, having heard from Toph's mockery about Aang being quite nimble for his age.

"I spent a century in a block of ice, when you had yet to be born!" If looks could kill, Harry would be dead.

"Fine! Just concentrate on keeping your flame burning while I bother about my ancestry!"

"You don't have to believe the stuff the Tribal Master said, Zuko. You know, your ancestors weren't all that bad…other than Sozin or Azulon, or Ozai, or – I should shut my mouth, shouldn't I?"

"You have no idea how much of help you'll be by doing that."

They made their way over the edge of the hill, and found the whole congregation of the Sun Warriors lined in a semicircle on the plateau.

"Alright, how in Neville's knickerbockers did they get here? Is there some sort of elevator that we could've taken? If so I am going to declare war on this tribe," said Harry in a fierce whisper.

"Surely you won't want another war just after this one ends," joked Aang, somewhat light-heartedly. "And what is an elevator? You seem to be coming up with new terms everyday, Zuko." He smiled, unaware that Harry was on the verge of laughter. But the young wizard couldn't risk his offending the Avatar – who knew what the kid could do?

Together they made their way to the ring of Sun Warriors, and from there they were pointed up a stairway, one as tall as the turrets of Hogwarts.

"Oh no, there is no way I'm – "

The next thing he knew, he was standing at the top of that terribly long staircase, bending over and panting, while struggling to keep his flame going.

Then there was a roar, one that sent dread running down Harry's back. He knew that roar; he'd heard it too many a time in the First Task…

Dragons.

"Holy Deceased Dumbledore's Unborn Son of a Horcrux Slaying Acid Pop-loving Wizard…" Harry wanted to bolt down the stairs. He couldn't face another dragon. Not after that terrible Gringotts breakout and the Hungarian Horntail.

However, Aang beat him to freaking out.

"Zuko! My fire went out!" The boy's face was full of fear and desperation.

Harry felt nothing but helpless. "Well, what do you want me to do?"

"Give me some of yours!"

"No! Just make your own!" Even as Harry said it, he knew Aang couldn't make his own fire. That fire had been from the First Flame.

The Avatar leapt upon him, struggling for a grab at his fire.

"Stop cheating on me!" Oh snap, what would Ginny think of that?

Alas, in their desperate struggle, Harry let go of the fire.

A rumble sounded throughout the area. A blast of wind hit their faces, and the next thing they saw a red and blue blur of twisting and turning.

The Liondragon and the Swedish Short-Snout.

Oh poop.

* * *

Darkness had been his only companion on his rough journey to Cirith Ungol – the orcs had casually bumped him against boulders and rocks as if his bones were as tough as a sky bison's; which was totally not the case. Of course, there'd been a lot of orc saliva dripping on his face, but that was the last thing Zuko ever wanted to remember. What did they eat?

He found his answer as they carried him into the dark building of Cirith Ungol.

It must've been hundred of orcs, either growling at each other, fighting for food or beating each other with weapons that Zuko had no wish to come into contact with. They all turned as his body was brought in within the gates, but gave him no second glance, much to his relief, all snorting and continuing clubbing each other.

They dragged him up the stairs, and Zuko was amazed that his skull was still intact once they reached the top and plunked him a bench.

He felt the web coming off, and then his clothes. Well, there went his wish for Mai to be the first to strip him.

They took off his shirt, then his singlet he believed to be made of some sort of gem. He didn't feel his pants coming off – thank goodness, he felt no need to feel the breeze.

It was only long after they'd tied him up did a warm sensation seemed to spread across his body, and he felt his eyelids fluttering. He could move. Finally!

He'd been about to stretch his sore, aching legs when a growl reminded him that he was in enemy territory. Dammit.

"Hands off!" barked the rough voice of an orc. "That shiny shirt…that's mine."

"It's going to the Great Eye," snapped another, this one slightly higher pitched. "Along with everything else."

Everything else. Instinctively Zuko grappled for the Ring.

The Ring, that wasn't there.

For the first time, he was free of that cumbersome piece of gold, free of that burden.

Yet, for the first time, he wanted it back.

Oh snap, he was balancing on the edge of bipolarity.

He needed the Ring back. He couldn't let it fall into the hands of the Dark Lord.

* * *

"Master Frodo, do tell me when you're done with your business, for your forehead is about to get as red as a blood-flavored lollipop."

"Many thanks to _someone_!" Frodo whipped around, his voice nearly lowering into a growl.

"Your welcome, Mr Baggins, so now that you've got a near apple on your head, come sit."

Only when Frodo had calmed down did he notice that a desk had appeared out of nowhere, and that Dumbledore was now seated in an armchair, twirling his extraordinary long hair.

Frodo sat hesitantly, eyeing the professor warily.

"So…where exactly is Gandalf now?"

"Gandalf the Grey no longer exists. He has disappeared from all heavens."

"So he's really dead?"

"If you're talking about Gandalf the Grey, yes. If you're talking about Gandalf the White, no."

"Is that the same person?

"The White Wizard is a more powerful doppelganger of the Grey. A reincarnation of Gandalf."

"But he is still the same."

"Still the same riddle-loving song-singing Istari. Just in a different body with white hair, white robes, white boots and a white staff."

"So Gandalf is alive?"

"You really must be more specific, Frodo, Grey or White? For Grey is dead, White is reborn."

"Gandalf the White then," said Frodo, the words new on his tongue. "He is in Middle-earth?"

Dumbledore did not reply, but his hand seemed to hover above the glass orb at the edge of the desk, and muttering something unintelligible, he began to caress the orb, as if it were as fragile as an egg.

The glass seemed to glow for a moment, a myriad of colors washing over the surface, whilst inside mist began to churn and swirl. Frodo stared wide-eyed, mesmerized by the beauty it now possessed.

"Come Frodo, look into it." Dumbledore now held out the orb to the hobbit. Frodo looked up uncertainly.

"What will I see?" he breathed.

"You know I'm not like that long-haired elvenlady Galadriel," said Dumbledore, though Frodo begged to differ. "I'm not going to tell you riddles about what you will see. Just take the damn thing."

Frodo took it upon his hands, and when he looked into it…

All it's beauty was gone.


	12. Chapter 12: Fear at First Sight

**A/N: So i just came back from LONDON! Woohoo! **

**Nah, who am i kidding i was stuck in Scotland. Anyways, R&R, that's all i ask of you (**hahaha...darn that reference :/ if you know where that's from...**)****.**

* * *

"And they were zipping past us, circling in the most graceful way any capable. The long bodies seemed boneless as they flew, twisting and turning. I quite enjoyed it. Zuko seemed stricken with panic," the young Avatar laughed as he told the story, and Harry flushed crimson red. He wasn't exactly proud of mistaking two gentle giants for the ferocious dragons in his own world.

"Well, never seen the Fire Prince trembling in fear," scoffed Katara. "I would've given a million bucks to see that."

"Yea…" Sokka's agreement sounded somewhat haft-hearted, like he'd rather be someplace else.

"Hey, how do you confront a pair of dragons – a pair, mind you, not only one – and not be afraid of being roasted like chicken? Well anyways, we figured they wanted us to dance. And we did."

"You what?!" Toph nearly toppled back in laughter.

"Danced," repeated Harry. Aang looked askance at him.

"Why do you say that with such pride?"

"For…for personal reasons." Harry thought back of the days of the Yule Ball, when Parvati had been dragging him across the dance floor until he wasn't sure which was his left or right. He was over the moon when he'd been able to dance without any lead.

He detached himself from the group as Aang continued their tale in the Temple of the Sun Warriors, on the excuse of making tea – which he could, after paying attention during Herbology on Plants and Their Uses. In the background, he could hear Aang's voice going on about the Dragons, how they opened their massive jaws and blasted flames at them. Harry still could not forget the heart attack he got, having real hot flames bursting in his face, and being surprised later that he weren't a charred pile of ash, and instead surrounded by the circling fires, feeling the warmth and life against his skin.

"…it was exhilarating, like being enveloped by a rainbow! It was a myriad of colors, showing us…that the true use of fire is life, not destruction." There was silence as Aang said this in utter amazement, but out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw that Sokka paid no attention to the young boy's awe.

"You know, I'm surprised Zuko didn't get his balls charred," retorted Katara. "With all his ancestry…"

My _ancestry includes a guy who kept his balls safe from Death_, thought Harry irritably to himself, and went over to deliver his tea to the group. Sokka didn't even look up, his eyes trained on the floor, until Harry went over to offer him some tea. He looked up, throwing his face into light for the first time, and Harry could see trouble riddled amongst the dark youthful features of the young soldier.

"Hey, Zuko, can I…um, talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," Harry replied, though rather uncertain. Sokka stood, leading the following Harry past Appa, who stirred slightly.

"So…what's up?"

"If…if someone was captured by the Fire Nation, where would they be taken?"

"What'd you mean?" Panic began to rise within Harry. "Who got taken?"

"When the invasion plan failed, some of our troops were taken. I just want to know where they might be."

"I can't tell you." He couldn't. He really didn't know the answer.

"What? Why not?"

"Knowing will only make you feel worse," Harry replied, hoping to buy his time. _Come on, conscience…where are you when I need your stupidly annoying voice in my head?_ He turned to head back to the camp, but Sokka's firm grip on the shoulder stopped him.

"It's my dad. He was captured too. I need to know what I put him through."

"It's not good Sokka." He felt something of a headache, a tingling in his brain. Was that the heralding of the arrival of…?

"Please." _Please…_Harry echoed in his mind, _help Sokka find his dad._

Then it spoke. And Harry didn't like the sound of the name he was given. But he had to.

"My guess is they were taken to the Boiling Rock."

* * *

If Zuko had been looking for a way to start a war as easy as a push of a button, he found it: putting two orcs together in one room.

They fought hard. He could hear the grunts and the rage that the two orcs possessed. Then there was a roar of anger, as he heard an orc being pushed down the stairs. The next thing he heard was the clash of weapons down in the dining area, the terrifying screams as the fight wore on. Armor clashed against armor, sword against sword, helmet again helmet, and the riot downstairs grew, until Zuko could see the fight from the tower window he faced. The fight had spread to the courtyard somehow, orcs throwing themselves at each other, snarling and ripping at each other's throats. Now he knew why Frodo was so fearful of orcs.

One by one bodies began to fall, bloodied bodies beginning to pile up in the war of the courtyard. Soon, the snarls ceased to continue, grim quietness falling over the courtyard, silent as the tomb. The eerie darkness enveloped Cirith Ungol, and soon Zuko began to feel a shiver of dread creeping up his spine, followed by a sudden urge to retch at the sight of the strewn carcasses.

He had to get out of here, before he lost his lunch – if Frodo even had lunch before this. Desperately, he tugged at the bonds that held his hands, trying to slip from the strong rope, but no avail.

"Stop your squealing, you dunghill rat!" came a growl. Zuko flipped over on his side, only to come face to face with an orc – a quite alive one, as a matter of fact. "I'm gonna bleed you like a stuck pig."

Shit. Zuko's eyes widened at the sight of the black blade that would soon be piercing through his now pounding heart. He hadn't hoped his end would be like this. What would happen to him if were to die now? Would he die in Frodo's body, and never get to see his darling Mai again? That would really suck – he'd been hoping to generate more 'electricity' with Mai.

Luckily, he didn't find out, for just as his death strike was to be made, the orc jerked, and the blade dropped to the floor with a clang as a blue glowing blade protruded from the chest.

Then came the voice he'd never thought he'd hear again.

"Not if I stick you first."

* * *

The colors faded. The orb was now painted with a dark picture of Gondor, it's usually stunning scenery now clouded with billowing black smoke. The majestic feeling Minas Tirith usually possessed was now gone, filled with lost hope and lost lives. It was a dreadful scene, with carcasses strewn across the barren plain, friend or foe. Frodo had no access to the senses, but at the sight of the death-filled field he could literally smell the reeking souls of the dead. Many thousands of souls, lost to the earth by a single battle begun by a single piece of accursed gold.

"This isn't real," Frodo whispered, fear clinging to his voice. "Tell me this isn't true, Gandalf."

"For the thousandth time, it's Albus Percival Wul – "

"Shut up old man. I'm trying to convince myself this ain't true." Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at the hobbit's sudden crankiness, but made no comment on it.

"But it is, no matter how much you wish for it not to be," replied Dumbledore. "Gondor is now the death place of many. Death shall always linger in the shadow of Minas Tirith."

"But Gandalf and the rest of the Fellowship, they still live?"

"Patience, my young hobbit, now just look into that giant ball in your hands."

"You had to put it that way," muttered Frodo, and looked into the orb once again.

This time he saw a line of soldiers marching from the gates of Minas Tirith, about a thousand. All rode their mounts with weary doggedness, but on their faces remained the passion to fight. And leading them, his head held high and armor shining, was Aragorn. Beside him, the rest of the Fellowship came. Merry and Pippin trying not to expose their fear, especially with the thousands of orcs behind those Black Gates; Gimli with sheer determination on his stout, bearded face; Legolas, his silky blonde hair billowing behind him.

And Gandalf, with the magnificent white robes he adorned, holding his staff high and proud.

They came to the Gates, Aragorn calling the army to a stop before continuing on with the Fellowship, stopping just at the edge of the Gates.

A figure emerged as the Gates opened. For a terrifying moment Frodo thought it was a Black Rider, upon seeing the black steed it rode and the large amount of black it wore. But then he saw it was not one of the Nazgul, noticing the horrible ghastly mouth it had. Frodo could not see it's eyes, covered by the silver spiked helmet, and he began to wonder how the creature was not falling off the horse.

The creature began to talk, every movement of the mouth and the exposure of the yellowed teeth sending a sense of discomfort through Frodo's body.

Gandalf spoke to the inhuman being for a moment, his face harsh and set. The creature merely sneered, taking out a piece of white cloth.

Except, it wasn't ordinary cloth; it was mithril.

And that was _his_ mithril chainmail.

Frodo choked back a sob. "Oh, Zuko, you ass, what did you do?"


End file.
